


and she will miss you

by mynameisserket



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ancient Rome, Christianity, Depression, Drug Addiction, Heaven & Hell, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Near Death Experiences, Pagan Gods, Tragic Romance, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 01:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisserket/pseuds/mynameisserket
Summary: a fic based solely on the song 'and she will miss you' by mads and my obsession with everything renaissance/romantism and literature connected.





	and she will miss you

"Ben, you can't keep doing this." 

Hux stared at the almost passed out figure lounging on the black leather couch, arms spread on the back of the soft cushions and fingers dancing anxiously against the worn material. His head was swaying left-right like a pendulum trying to settle, black waves of hair blocking the beads of sweat Hux could make out rolling down the other's worn expression, glinting in the very dim white light of the neon light. Ben's shirt was covered in different shades of red, new and old blood mixed in a pool to rival the swirls inside Van Gogh's "The Starry Night", clashing against the stark white of his cotton shirt. The stars were scattered over the glass coffee table where Solo was resting his feet, black boots leaving dirt on the glass beside the careless lines of white sand. 

Inside this man, Armitage noted, boiled the river Phlegethon. Unstable, fiery, spilling out of his nose and down his plump lips to leave marks against his soft skin that has seen many pinches, scratches and bruises. Ben lifted his head as much as he could and twitched, black eyes numb to any touch of light reflecting inside his receptors. He wasn't speaking, much more murmuring, but even those little whimpers of words that came from the brooding brunet were heavenly whispers that reminded Hux of a safe haven, of warm arms that surrounded his bony figure in a warmth resembling Heaven's eternal light. His voice sent chills down Hux's spine, grounding him in his spot like a thunderbolt had passed through him, staring at the limb figure of his sinful Beatrice.

Hux pressed his head underneath Ben's chin like a she-wolf hiding her partner's jugular from his enemy, eyeing the needles scattered on his matted carpet. He could feel Ben's pulse against his forehead, jittering and jumpy like a rabbit in a meadow; the fear was obvious. Ben was not present with his thoughts to even acknowledge Armitage begging for a sign of life from him, touching around Ben's stoic body with translucent and long fingers. 

His hands cupped the sides of Ben's face and turned the younger man towards him, searching with desperation for some semblance of coherent thought. Turquoise eyes were surrounded by a curtain of glossy red and pale eyelashes stubbornly refused to let the teardrops slip, giving the man a horrific portrait of a death ridden lover with bed sickness. 

Armitage wished he could detach himself. His heartstrings were being pulled by a puppeteer he couldn't see and with every tug he fell deeper into the whiskey bottle, while his partner resembled more a broken dream than a breathing human. Hux's every breath around this individual was an inhale of glass shards covered in honey, slipping down his throat and preventing him from saying anything more than 'You look horrible, Ben." 

The necklace around his neck burned invisible marks into his chest bones. Hux often touched it through his sweaters and felt himself cringe under the feel of his fingertips on the silver cross, not daring to grasp it. It's been 6 months. Ben has been dissociating for ages now, slipping through his fingers like his father's prayer beads whenever he had the decency to reap for his sins inside the nearby church. Armitage felt himself get tugged low into the circles of the eternal Inferno, daily feeling the winds of the second circle blow him like a leaf in the air, cursing his lustfulness. He wept through the punishments and seeped into comfort of brown and crystalline liquids, inaudible wretched screams filling his ears like cotton. Oh, how he feared eternal punishment, listening to the painful screams of ones who suffered the same sins he was committing. 

But, the screams silenced when he would come back, soul washing itself in the comfort of Adonis' doe eyes. Artemis gave the deer's eyes and temperance to the man who Hux visited through this half year, feeling her presence through the moon whenever the window was open and Kylo scooped out a sinful moan from the depths of Hux's lungs. Armitage traced the small dots that littered Solo's back, chest, arms, neck - fingertips burning to feel them. The cross on his neck heavied like the world on Atlas' shoulders, but Hux burdened through it whenever he was back in the soft grasp of Apollo. 

It's been a year. Armitage fell deaf to the insults, demeaning words and lies of one maddened Mars, burning in a glow so brightly red that it put Mercury to shame. His radiance sized up to the Earth's closest star, fiery tongues setting Hux's heart ablaze as he came too close, like a foolish repetition of Icarus' legacy; the wax was making holes inside his back. 

Not long enough the cross was discarded onto the ground in piles of silver pearls in the presence of numerous souls, ones Hux didn't recognize on a temple where Gods and Goddesses spat at him and marked him with whips of words in ancient languages Kylo didn't have the time to teach Hux. It had been a particularly bad episode of shivering post-fixture, lighters thrown haphazardly, cigarettes half smoked, veins tightened with belts up until they threatened bursting.

His hair grew over his ears and hid any imperfection that Ren insisted of having. Mane of raven hair only aided Hux into the trap, falling like a lamb for the wolf in sheep's clothing; feeling secure in hands that weren't safe. Armitage's head felt like an attic full of rats that constantly scattered around, curling their tails in search of something to bite on. Armitage clawed at the closest point where his heart left the imprint of beating, sobs bubbling like clumps of coal inside his throat.  _ Let me leave,  _ his mind screamed, staring at the reflection in the mirror while beautiful Narcissus slept in between his red, red sheets. 

It was one week. Armitage fell unconscious every other hour against chairs, tables, in the public metro, inside the elevators - lacking sleep and food that sustained his body, but feeling himself trying to cleanse  _ him _ out of his physical being. He smiled a smile Mona Lisa would applaud on, showing the hint of happiness that was fabricated by the very admirer of the paintings. Detoxification of the very sin that condemned him to certain failure was the only solution his feeble mind chose to act on. Food was thrown up as his system worked against his hunger, his eyes sinking into deep, ash circles that whispered death wherever they roamed. He hadn't seen Kylo in a week. 

Armitage fought his way through the staggering amount of people surrounding the burning temple, coughing his weak lungs out and suspecting himself of collapsing from the black plague at any moment, even if the plague was never there, only inside his soul. He breathes and hackles from the ash and dust rising in circles up into a starry night, crackling red fire mocking him.  _ This is your entrance to the Inferno, Armitage,  _ a voice slithered inside his broken mind, speaking of nothing but disappointment in an overachieving son. 

Armitage fell to his knees in front of the burning circle, meticulously done ginger hair now sticking out here-there, perfectly pressed suit positively perishing in the pyre that casted shadows of doubt behind the General. He stared in desperation and disbelief inside the heart of the fire, feeling his body being wracked by realization that the addict's comfort is no longer there, that he won't see his shoes next to the door ever again, that his only solitude was gone from this earthly realm.

He stared up at the sky as he wished for the last of miracles to drag them out of this disaster, hearing wails of the almost Ancient Greek chorus behind him pitying the main character. 

And then, there he was, the last miracle rising from the ashes of the fire like a phoenix. He was his Apollo, his Mars, his Hades, his Adonis and Adam, the original sin, the King of Lies and the relisher in bodily desires, the incarnation of Lucifer _himself_ \- Beautiful Morningstar. Hux's weary mind stuck pairs of elegant wings to the back of his lover, to give himself the comfort of thinking that he was protected by an angel, longing to look into those eyes that sucked in everything around them. 

Darling Lucifer knelt in front of the mortal man, weaving his fate like Arachne in his large palms, forgiving and begging to be forgiven from Hux who was neither a deity, nor a pope. And for a moment, Hux believed he was sinless, he was pure, as the man who lead him into the deepest desires was shaking in front of him and coughing up apologies like rose petals. 

"Your mother," Armitage whispered, hand resting on the side of Kylo's neck, feeling rivers of desperate tears going down his cheeks. 

Is there a resolution? Is there truly an ending to the sinner's sufferings? Armitage watched the man crumble in front of him, like a falling star burning in the proximity of the Earth's atmosphere. 

"She will miss you." 


End file.
